


and it all began with you

by mediumbear



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Found Family, M/M, Mesopotamian Mythology - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumbear/pseuds/mediumbear
Summary: "Who goes in front saves his companion,who knows the road protects his friend."





	and it all began with you

The pendant placed around their neck feels a little dull to begin with, heavy as Ninsun lays the woven cord flat against their clavicle and around the back of their neck like a collar. It's a long and -- somewhat heavy strap that joins in the shape of a reed-mark at the height of their stomach, but then, all presence of fabrics weighs down their lithe body, now so clunky in such a form. Enkidu tries to look down at what she's doing with her hands but not for her long horns obstructing them, the pale moonstone points inches from their face. Behind her Gilgamesh seems to suppress a laugh from the way his mouth contorts. Enkidu stares.

"Goddess," they say after a moment.

"Hush," Ninsun replies in all of her motherly command, "You will wear this well. Lift your hair."

They oblige, pulling the long sweep up off their back with both arms and Ninsun flattens and adjusts the cord on the nape. 

"There... Wonderful."

Enkidu unceremoniously dumps their hair heavily in a waterfall across their shoulders, finally cracking Gilgamesh's grin where he stands cross-armed behind his mother. Ninsun pauses before them, then smiles.

"A child of mine will be the child of Uruk and protected by all of Uruk. Through absence of a mother, the city will become your guardian, Enkidu. Wear that with pride."

"Pride…"

Enkidu looks down and closes their fingers around the cord. From here all they can see is a swathe of robes and their-- their lead. They know how humans bring their heifers to water. They frown. 

Ninsun puts her hands on her hips.

"As you're the first of your kind I will summon the elders to write this into law. Gilgamesh, come, you will give assent."

"They would question your authority, Mother?" Gilgamesh grins.

She flashes a knowing smile and Enkidu sees the curve of her mouth reflected on him like a crescent moon as she turns and clicks her heels on the way from the royal chamber. 

The moment that she leaves their presence Enkidu's hand is enveloped -- they look down -- between Gilgamesh's two hands. To see their own hand so like Gilgamesh's own is still a shock now that their quarrel is over. No longer a weapon made to match, now simply a match. Hands like any other Uruk countryman. Hands made to serve Gilgamesh.

"Isn't this amazing," he's grinning like a victor despite the outcome of their fight, "Aren't you honoured?"

"Are you mocking me?" 

"Of course not," Gilgamesh breaks the hold to run his fingers along the woven cord, "You'd know if I was."

"You won't stop making that face. Even when she put this leash on me. You knew." Enkidu scrunches their face up and pulls at the cord again with their free hand, yanking it from Gilgamesh's palm. He-- shows a smile, again. Why is it so bright?

"Only a shepherd would think that way, and certainly not one of Uruk-the-sheepfold with such base associations in mind. A leash on _ you _, ha! Could anything so flimsy restrain your anger?" He claps a hand on Enkidu's shoulder. "This shows you are part of Uruk itself, now. My brother."

"Brother?"

Gilgamesh puts his hands to their face then and kisses their cupped cheeks, one by one, then a third kiss for good measure. Enkidu braces themself for another onslaught but finds their small hands balled into fists curling against Gilgamesh's chest, resistance in their shape but no strength behind them. They don't know what this reaction or posture means, or the press of Gilgamesh's mouth or his mother's ceremonial gestures or the elders or the sheepfold, but they're now holding their breath and turning pink under their fluffed-up hair and his new _ brother _'s touch.

"It's obvious we were meant to be together," Gilgamesh thumbs at their cheeks, his eyes so sure on Enkidu's, "So be with me, with my home, my family."

The time that Enkidu has known of the concept of _ family _ is less than that they have known of _ Gilgamesh _. They lacked it. He provided it.

"My home, my family," they repeat under Gilgamesh's intense gaze.

"Exactly."

*

Clouds have rarely been such a blessing, their cover shielding the journey from all moonlight. Any further and they would scale the mountain, Enlil’s mountain, a terrain too fierce for Gilgamesh's miserable lack of nocturnal vision and for Enkidu's ingrained distaste for the place. Quietly, Enkidu thanks Adad for the swirling sky above as they pitch the tent in twilight darkness.

"Even a two-man army deserves better quarters," Gilgamesh sulks, back flat on the grasses that make their flooring. Admittedly the linens they carry with them makes for poor bedding and roofing, but Enkidu somehow doesn't think his lord would want much to do with a bare rocky den in the mountainside, either. Even if it's good enough for lions...

"Pardon me for my rustic ways," Enkidu offers the smallest sarcastic supplication with a roll of their eyes, touching Gilgamesh's knee only for him to seize their wrist, pulling them down to the bumpy earth atop him. They give a little huff in surprise but Gilgamesh curls to accommodate their body snugly against his, because of course, comfort is the problem here. 

"Hush, your handiwork hasn't a single fault," he says into their ear then sighs, rolling his head to rest in Enkidu's hair, "I’m simply addressing the fact that this is hardly royal accommodation. If the townspeople knew that Gilgamesh was within the grasp of glory yet laying on the ground…”

“No, well -- I think they know. It is only the two of us, after all.”

“We could have brought something more suitable with us. I’ve had woollen bedding on campaigns before. Real pillows.”

“I didn’t know you would need it to sleep, my king,” Enkidu touches his chest, bared from his robe despite the night’s chill settling in.

“Don’t you sleep on it in the palace?”

“It’s wonderful, but I don’t _ need _it. I don’t miss it.”

Gilgamesh runs his fingers through the length of Enkidu’s hair then rests his hand on their hip.

“No matter. We’ll have our glory.”

“We will.”

“To do battle on less than my full strength is a foolish move, but more the glory for it. They’re expecting it back at home _ now _.”

Enkidu listens to Gilgamesh’s heartbeat with the ear pressed to his chest, his breathing with the other. Humbaba’s forest sounds far too quiet for a thicket inhabited by a monster. Perhaps he is expecting their company in the morning.

“You should sleep.” They stir finally, edging their way up to sitting.

“Then you shall stand watch.” Gilgamesh doesn’t move a muscle where he lays on the rushes and closes his eyes. Enkidu smiles and takes their place at the opening of the tent, eyes keen in the night.

They’re much too far from home for comfort but everything feels perfectly in place.

*

"Where will they go?"

Enkidu stirs from yet another cloying and heavy boglike sleep, or perhaps merely unconsciousness, to the garbled sound in their ears of his lord, wavering. It must be the sickness, they tell themself. His voice only shivers such before giants and ogres. He's over it now, anyway.

"My lord--" 

The other familiar voice-- the priest who diagnosed them with this wasting sickness. Enkidu feels pity for how many times he has been summoned to look at this sorry sight. Their eyes no longer see more than glimmers and colours in the darkened room, lamps left unlit for their own benefit they are sure, but they wish they could offer some sympathy with an apologetic glance.

"Their body is _ right here _ but something will leave, tell me--" His voice continues, urgent now.

"To the House of Dust, my lord,"

"_No_," Gilgamesh cries, "No, another place, offer me something else!"

"There is no other place, my lord, any other place would offer a return journey. The sun and the moon return to us. The earth beneath goes nowhere. Not even its queen may leave."

Something else is said, quietly, then Gilgamesh snarls.

"Begone, I have heard nothing of use. Leave us."

Moments pass without speech and Enkidu thinks of swimming in the small oases in the plains beyond Uruk, cloudy water that blinds and blocks the ears. They try to sit up to look but the muscle in every place their blood flows is locked and as stiff as gypsum, the bones heavy enough to crack where they sit in their joints and the groan that crawls out of their throat in their pain is enough to whip Gilgamesh across the chamber to clasp their hand although that, too, is hotter than Humbaba's breath of fire. No human skin contains such a sting, like venom, like the sun-hot drenching of the Bull's blood. Gilgamesh has never felt so dreadfully warm. Will their body be burnt up like that of those who die of disease, they wonder suddenly.

"Enkidu! _ Enkidu-- _"

"What were you…"

Gilgamesh squeezes their hand tighter, then releases in seeing the crack of pain flutter their eyelids shut.

"...speaking about?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, like he's waiting for more questions hissed through their locked jaw, and dips his head in shame.

"I thought you couldn't hear,"

"My… my lord's voice is as music," they attempt to smile, "I hear, even in my dreams…"

Gilgamesh sobs.

"Don't go anywhere, don't crumble away like this, don't _ leave,_"

"Where will I be going?"

Through the haze of fuzzy shapes in their vision only the glow of the sun outside cast behind Gilgamesh's matted hair stands out and Enkidu can feel something else hot, this time, burning over their wrist-- acid. Gilgamesh is weeping. They let out a hiss of a breath in tolerance.

"I will raise you a monument-- I will gild them, I will offer the horns--"

"Gilgamesh..."

"Ereshkigal will see what we have accomplished, she will seat you highly where you will go, I'm sure, _ Enkidu_, my Enkidu, how could she _ not--_"

"Ahh," Enkidu sighs.

The sound has Gilgamesh's head jerk up with a crack. Fear is written across his face, plain as day even with their sightless eyes.

"So I will leave you," they whisper, "I will leave my home."

"Your home is Uruk, you are loved here, you will be remembered in Uruk, Enkidu, _ please_," Gilgamesh grabs the symbol around Enkidu's neck, loose as it hangs on the gaping arch of their ribs, "Always, your home is _ here,_ it will be here for you--"

Enkidu squeezes his hand back, the gentlest tremble of their joints but it silences Gilgamesh like a slap.

"My home… is by your side. My home…"

They don't hear Gilgamesh argue, or much else, after that.


End file.
